mission: not impossible
by xoVanilla-Bean
Summary: Zack was on a self-proclaimed mission to reconcile Cloud's decrepit connection with the ever elusive females. Too bad he got it all wrong. — ZackTifa — AU
1. it began with that cinnamon roll

a/n; BEWARE. The prominent genre is _humor_. Humor, in writing, is not my forte.  
AND. Was meant to be a oneshot - turned into a 9,000 word experiment _thing_. So, this may actually have a plot. 8D  
And I chaptered it to make it seem less obnoxious? And because I'm _sometimes_ easily embarrassed. And because it was easy to chapter this, kind of. I hope it's enjoyable?

* * *

mission: not impossible; because this is about Zack Fair, not Tom Cruise.

* * *

Zack was on a mission.

It was a safe bet Cloud wasn't going to do it. Actually, on second thought, Cloud would never do anything like this. Very unselfishly, selfishly selfish on his part. He should be grateful Zack went out of his way for him. Really, grateful.

But no, Cloud had been busy brooding in the corner. As usual.

There was that detail of Cloud not knowing what Zack was doing.. But what was that saying about ignorance being blissful? It was basically the same thing. And Zack knew Cloud – so automatically, this was the only way.

He stopped his whistling, glancing at the title above the glassy, towel polished doors. The border around the sign was enough to tell him _they flock flock flock, _and it only reinforced his confidence in his superb sixth sense.

As he strutted through the emblazoned entrance, a rush of rich, Italian air took a detour up his nostrils, caressing and very much too potent. The smell of working female satisfaction.

Coffee.

And the thing about coffee shops equaled Zack's mental list he prescribed to himself. One: women loved places like these. He thought about what, exactly, was so attractive about them – the muted, wishy-washy paint job, the circular, modernized tables with wire-backed chairs, or the old fashioned, closed in booths with cracked seams and loose fluff. Romantic appeal? Zack didn't think so. But whatever. What worked, worked.

Two: the women that came sipped coffee, sometimes alone, sometimes in groups, and it was easy to scout the ones with cappuccino foam wishes mixed with sugar and cream.

And if there was a three…well, it'd be easy arithmetic.

So arithmetic it was, roving glances and sneak peeks around the wooden tables. He had to make sure he picked a good one, since most girls noticed him and his volatile stride, the peaceful atmosphere ripped with the metal clap of the bell.

Since most girls didn't appreciate booth-hopping or his self-proclaimed selfless mission, he had a single chance at finding a girl alone – and that wasn't hard. It was the _talk_. And Zack _never _had problems with talk.

He'd been to three coffee shops. But he had the absolute optimism that this was the one. It sold cinnamon rolls and goulashes. If there was a woman who had taste in anything, delicious or…_delicious_, it would be here, and if it wasn't here it wouldn't be anywhere and all hope was lost.

He grabbed a silver stool and sat up at the bar counter, leaning on the pastry filled glass and avoiding eye contact with melted butter and glazed all over doughnuts. Instead, he casually placed his jaw in his fist, feigning boredom into scrutiny.

He checked out five booths…three occupants. There were two at one booth – guy and girl. Zack was sure he could land the girl, if the guy left long enough. Maybe he could go to the bathroom, and Zack would go up to the girl in a nonchalant, is that a hazelnut espresso? I love hazelnut espressos! And she would fall in love with him – or, the idea of him having blond hair and the name Cloud, and then complete and utter score.

But there was something in the guy's pocket. It was shining and it looked like it was cutting out stitches in the seams.

So Zack would tell anybody that wondered, without a doubt, that he loved Cloud in a brotherly, I-will-push-your-face-in-a-toilet, tell-me-a-secret-and-I-won't-tell-anybody-_really_, I'm-gonna-push-this-button-here-and-here-and-here, way. He'd put his head out there on the highway for him, sure, no question. He'd make sure Cloud wasn't about to do something too idiotically unchangeable, or just idiotic – like right now for instance.

But to get shanked for flirting? Even Zack knew a hopeless idea when he saw it. And the girl wasn't even that pretty to get shanked for. Cloud deserved better in the most arrogant-less, condescending-less way Zack could make it sound. So…nah.

The other warmed the booth by himself, constructing a bubbled mustache and staring at a crossing street sign out the window. He had a friendly face, soft eyes, soft mouth lines, but last time Zack checked Cloud was very into females. He probably wouldn't appreciate going on a date, clueless enough to trip into his seat and gawk at who might fill the spot in front of him.

Okay, so Zack had to force himself to dislodge the lustful feelings he had for such an idea. To just take a photo of Cloud's face…

Sometimes Zack hated how much a true conscience he really had.

Getting rid of the vestiges of the want, Zack placed his attention on the other estrogen occupying the room. There were a nice number of scattered, small rounded tables, with two crowded high chairs almost awkwardly placed apart. The comfort level must have been low with no cushion, but through his wincing, Zack eyed up the inhabitants. They contained a nice batch – at the least, he already had three vies for the taking.

He sized up the one closest – and he couldn't help but become biased. Her hair was dangerously long and there was something in the way she held her coffee cup that screamed gentle and dainty. Her posture was upright, her spine straight with years of absent slouching. There was a nice vibe from her, and okay, Zack had tried to leave the physicality alone but who was he trying to fool? The girl had boobs. All uplifted and supple and – damn, was her face flawlessly fabulous.

Maybe he'd keep that one for himself. Selfless…_right_.

_Focus_ Zack _Focus_.

The next girl seemed to be quite fidgety. In shocking contrast to the first, her hair was boyishly short, not butch length, but not mullet-wise either. Her legs were countries long and her fingers were scraping off the plastic paint on the dent in the table. He was turned on by her headband, and the way the ties twisted in a twirl down her back. He followed it down her stick figure, but there was buoyancy yet.

He was skeptical. She bit her lip and was distracted by floating cloth strings and honking horns out the window. Zack knew waiting when he saw it. Perhaps she wasn't one to bet on.

And then it was the last. She had large, all-seeing eyes, emitting a strange color. They were the first thing he noticed. Her hair seemed newly trimmed, with the ends aligned too perfect and messed with too hazardously. The attire fastened was wrinkled, misplaced crinkles criss-crossing her stomach like a tic-tac-toe game, and her coffee was steaming untouched. Her face was pretty, even with hard stress lines, and he was appreciative of the figure hiding its best away from prying glances. It was born 36-24-36 alright.

He didn't know what to make of her – she seemed to have an unlocking complex. A tough cookie to chew – not stale or too chewy. Just…tough. He wondered if he'd have the time, and if Cloud would, for that matter.

But it was what he saw on the table that made him stop.

She was eating a cinnamon roll.

A _giant_, over-the-top, ohmygod-is that real, cinnamon roll. The melting butter was spinning down the swirl in different races to the plate, drips of three puddles forming in a decadent triangle, and slowly, in slow motion, she took her fingers and peeled it all, so slowly, into a striped boa constrictor.

And then there it went, into her mouth and on a long, short journey to her stomach.

That was it. It canceled out his hesitant thinking and forced him to saunter up to her table.

"I'm extremely jealous."

She looked up, halted in the action of drinking her coffee. She lifted an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

He quirked his eyes in an all-knowing way. "I gave up sweets for lent, and you ate that whole cinnamon roll in two bites." He folded his arms.

Her face washed in a dark cherry red. It was a nice color on her – and if Zack liked it, Cloud would too.

"You were…watching me eat?" she eyed him in a semi-confused, shocked look.

"Of course – " her body language stopped him. "Uh, not really," he transitioned. "I happened to glance your way right when you were eating. And I _knew_ I had to tell you how envious I was." He gave her a crooked smile – and these always greased down the rust. "But it wasn't just the cinnamon roll. I couldn't bring myself to resist coming to talk to such a sweet thing as yourself."

Though her cheeks stayed a nice, flushed pink, her lips jutted in examination. "Oh. Well," she hesitated. "Thanks.." she then purposefully went back to tapping her fingernails on the cardboard cylinder in her palms.

Zack wanted to groan. That is not how she was supposed to react. She was supposed to react with a giggle and a cute up-tilt of her nose.

At her lapse in judgment, he took over. "The pleasure's all mine Miss…"

And as Zack anticipated her next move, he let his grin widen.

"…Tifa," she relented. "Call me Tifa."

"Tifa," he rolled over his tongue in relief. "I'm Zack," he smiled. "Listen – I'm meeting a friend here, but he's tied up in business matters," he said, waving his hand in a nonchalant fashion. "So I was wondering if I could share some of my good-natured company with you until he gets here."

She had not ceased tapping her paper coffee cup, and he could not tell what she was going to say. That annoyed uncertainty wasn't easy to get used to, the readiness of glistening eyes and shiny teeth so abundant in the past, but it had crawled over him _all morning_.

Please, please, please, come on come on come on, he thought, holding his breath.

"Al…All right," she sipped. "I guess it'd be okay."

Zack held back an unnecessary fist pump. Instead, he helped himself to the chair across from her, getting used the feel of her examining eyes.

"So, Tifa," he started. "What brought you to this coffee shop?"

He had been wondering ever since he came to stand before her, her fingertips noticeably pressing too hard onto the table.

She gave him a look. "What people do when they come to coffee shops. Drink coffee." To punctuate her answer, she sipped her drink.

Zack grinned. "Well, there's got to be something else. You're gorgeous, and all by yourself?" He folded his arms. "I know stress when I see it."

Her eyebrow rose and rose until it hit her forehead line. "Really? Well, I think there's something else with you, too." She seemed to become defensive. "You're nosy…and you're all by yourself. I think that says lonely, Zack."

To say he was impressed would be an understatement.

"Like I said," Zack shrugged. "I'm only here because I'm waiting. Why not enjoy the time?"

She kept up her strange, suspicious front, taking another gulp of coffee. She didn't answer him with words but with a sigh. She didn't seem to be leaning toward him in any way.

Behind his open smile, Zack was panicking. What was it with these coffee shop girls? It'd never been this hard before. They were usually giggling by now. Maybe this pick had been wrong. Maybe this whole coffee shop idea had been wrong.

Maybe it wasn't a stroke of genius, but a stroke of awkward, failing shame instead.

Damn it, Cloud, this is your entire fault.

There might still be some time to change…

But one flutter of her lashes was all it took to glue him down. He stayed where he was.

…Maybe he could be honest.

"Okay…listen." He placed his elbow on the glossy wood. "I have this problem," by the bunching of her face, he amended quickly. "Er – well, it's not my problem, exactly. It's my friend – my best friend. And he just can't seem to get out of the apartment lately."

She tilted her head far to the left, and Zack felt sparks of amusement and disbelief. Her eyes were teaming with curiosity and interest.

"Do you know why he doesn't?"

Zack could barely hold back his joy. He'd have to remember to be honest more often. "It could be because he just ended his service," he said, "But I think the biggest thing was the passing of his mom a few months ago."

Well, he hadn't been expecting to give _that_ information out. But it'd be for the greater good, Zack was sure.

Her eyes grew an eerie, dark red, and she placed her arms on the table in a serious fashion. "Oh my, that's terrible! You don't think it's post traumatic stress, do you?"

So maybe this wasn't for the greater good, exactly. Zack waved his hands. "Whoa, whoa, no, not at all. I know for a fact Cloud can act like an abused pup, and he even adds on some dramatic flair every once in a while, but he's only like this sometimes," he said. "He's actually a pretty cool guy. If he wasn't, he wouldn't be my best friend."

She blinked twice, deliberate, and if Zack was paying more attention to her than his thoughts, he would have seen a flicker. But he didn't, and her eyes had become a softer shade. "It can be one of the hardest things, to tell someone close about emotional problems. Do you think…_Cloud_...is hiding anything from you?"

Zack drummed the tabletop. Was she onto something here?

"He could hide things…but I don't think he _would_." Zack frowned. "If it was something serious, I'd think I'd be able to tell."

She made a humming noise while she twirled the stirrer in her cup. "What's he like?"

The subject made Zack pause a while to think. If this could all go over smoothly, and she didn't get up and run away, then…

"Uh…he's like me, except shier and not as loud. Kind of like a turtle."

"A turtle?"

"Yeah," Zack shrugged. "You make him feel uncomfortable and he just slips into his shell." Zack made a motion of a turtle slipping into his shell. "Once he's out, he can be slow in going. But he can surprise you if you give him a chance."

Tifa had grabbed an absent piece of hair, twisting it between her fingers. "So he's a lot like you…" she paused. "Except he's not."

"The exact description!" Zack shouted jubilantly.

She sighed, rubbed her temples. "Has he done anything that would make you question things about him?"

"Oh, he does things all the time that make me question his self in general," Zack said, leaning forward. "Just a week ago, he bought a motorcycle – _spontaneously_." He spoke in a way that suggested no, spontaneous turtles did not exist. "And he named it. Fenrir. _Fenrir_. Who comes up with a name like that?"

Tifa smiled a little. "Maybe he's found something to place his passion into."

"But he's…he's…" Zack didn't justify it with an ending. "And he cleans it every day. Sometimes even _twice_. Then he takes it out at night, to God knows where, and he doesn't come back for a few to several hours."

This made Tifa's lips fall into a grimace. "And this has never brought attention to your concern?"

"Well, no…" Zack rubbed at the back of his head. It hadn't in the slightest bit. "I just thought it was one of his phases. He has phases, you know."

"Hm," Tifa took another sip of her drink, and the cup landed with a hollow click on the table. "Maybe next time you talk to him, you can ask him about where he goes. At night, with his motorcycle I mean."

Maybe he would, Zack thought. I'll ask him where he goes with his motorcycle at night, for several hours at a time…

And then Zack was struck with something very morbid indeed.

"Oh, shit…"

Tifa seemed startled. "What's wrong?"

Zack's eyes widened in revelation, but stared at nothing in particular.

You see, Zack was kind of a master/king/superior in observing, memorizing, and uselessly educating himself in every fetish named in the world (and, also, to a few that weren't. You couldn't call yourself a master/king/superior if you didn't know the imaginary ones as well.)

And Cloud, plus an _inanimate object_, plus midnight to witching to _sexing_ hours, could really, only mean one thing.

"…Objectophilia…" Zack gasped.

"Object…I'm sorry, what did you say?" Tifa's eyebrows were definitely in an unnatural pretzel.

Zack hurried to try to stifle his solution, his fingers going to scratch his lips in a vain attempt to erase the word he let slip.

"Ah…nothing." At her look, he emphasized, "_Nothing_."

She didn't relent.

"An…Object to fill…ah," he floundered. "His hobbies? Yeah, hobbies…and stuff."

Her face quirked at him, but she let it slide, albeit very reluctantly. Looking down at her cup, her eyes opened in realization and she changed her view to her silver watch.

"Um," she fiddled with her cup's rim. "Your friend is still coming, isn't he?"

At this, Zack reached for his phone from his back pocket. The time in the lighted background alarmed him. They had been sitting here for a good twenty minutes – fifteen minutes more than he originally planned.

It was strange. He wanted to keep talking. They hadn't even got to _her_, which was what was his ultimate intention, at first, and instead, it had changed into it being if Cloud was up to being qualified to keep her interest around…in a sense.

When the hell had _that_ change happened?

"Right, yeah," Zack said. "That meeting must have been brutal."

"Must have been," she trailed. "Well, I have to be off to work. It was nice talking to you," she held her hand out in a genuine smile. It made her eyes go into that strange color from before, and he knew this was his moment to intervene.

Zack reached for her hand and took it inside his, lazily shaking. "It was nice," he said. Then he let their hands still, not letting it go. "But, you know what I'd think would be even nicer?"

Her smile faltered, and if Zack hadn't been so concentrated on what he was about to say, how he was going to deliver it, and what kind of smile he'd use, he would have noticed it.

"I think…" he leaned closer. "That it'd be a great idea if…" he paused for effect and leaned closer still. "You and Cloud went on a date!"

She shrank back, jotting her hand away from him. Her eyes were starting to spiral in mini-hurricanes, and her pretty, smiley face had become a shadow.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think that idea is a very…nice one."

Freakin' coffee shops. There was something so obviously cursed about else were girls able to change that fast, unless the place they were in had a tattooed design in the backside of the alleyway, showing in copyrighted glee that yes, this place had been succumbed to the evil forces beyond human power?

"But – I honestly think you two would really hit it off," Zack used one of his most persuasive tones. "You two would have that chemistry – that flair – and I think it might just be able to make that frown on your beautiful face go away." He crooked his lips at her.

"I just don't.." her forehead creased. "I think the best that Cloud needs is space, and if I interfere with that, it'll aggravate his feelings more, and…"

Zack cupped her face in a gentle nudge, thumb moving over her chin in expertise. "Now, Tifa. I know him better than anyone. Even you, in your personality reading virtuoso." He winked. "And I think a night out, a real night out, with a person instead of an inanimate object, would be the greatest remedy for whatever is going on with him right now. Just a fun night with company, kinda like this twenty minutes we spent talking."

He bowed his head and lifted it again, staring at her in a plea. "So, what do you say?"

Her face had become a technicolor arrangement of sorts, all her thought processes giving way into one final, earth-shattering, fetish-breaking medley of…of…

Slowly, ever so slowly, resembling how she had eaten her cinnamon roll earlier, she nodded once, in one bob of hesitant climactic agreement.

"I guess it wouldn't hurt either of us to – "

She was cut off by a gut-bending hug, Zack swinging her around in a circle and dropping her back to the floor. Her lungs gave out a single, giant whoosh, mixed with a faint squeak, and she stumbled around in several shaky steps.

"I knew you wouldn't let me down!" he paused. "Or Cloud! You guys will hit it off and get married, have lots of little Tifas and Clouds and…oh, careful there." He padded her equilibrium with his forearms, and she hit his chest with a huff.

"It's going to be one date, Zack," she said, pushing away and onto her own feet again. "One."

"That's all it takes sometimes," he grinned wildly, crossing his arms and glancing down at her. She blinked and glanced away, back to the ticking of her watch again.

"Yeah, and sometimes it takes years," she muttered, then she said, "I really have to go now. Do you know a time and place?"

Through his planning of this whole thing, Zack prided himself in going so far as to already making reservations to the restaurant.

"Yep! 7:30 tomorrow night at Chocobo Andante," Zack resounded with swagger.

Her eyebrow rose at the choice, but she took it in stride. "Alright. See…_him_ then." She produced a smile of farewell and headed on her way through the door, the metal clap noting her departure.

Zack sighed in utter content, watching her tread over the crosswalk. Cloud was going to go be a gentleman to a wonderful lady, and he would be cured of everything.

Zack was _sure_ of it.

* * *

a/n; i...didn't read over this. /dies of shame  
let me know what you think so far! (:


	2. then it evolved into a date

**ii**; then it evolved into a date

* * *

Turned out Cloud was not going to be a gentleman to a wonderful lady, and he was not going to be cured of anything, since, in his delirious, in-denial fragments of his mind, there was nothing he needed a cure _for_.

"Cloud," Zack grabbed his shoulders. "Don't be ridiculous! It's one date. One. And you'll have a great time." He shook Cloud a little. "_Trust_ me. She's a _babe_."

"That's what you say about all the girls you date," Cloud said, shrugging away.

"Precisely my point!" Zack fell back onto the couch. "All the girls I find are sexy, smart, and sensible. The three S's, Cloud."

"Don't you mean four?" Cloud went out of his way to lean on the table closest to the apartment entrance. "I think you forgot silicon."

There was a beat of silence. Zack snorted. "Now you develop a sense of humor," he threw his hands up high in the air. "But I'm serious. Hear me out. This one's different." He splayed his fingers. "She's going to _match_ you."

Cloud stared down at the carpet, shoulders tensed in an unnatural way. "Serious, huh? When are you ever serious about girls, Zack?"

Zack bit the inner meat of his lip. "Ever since you became the paragon of woe."

Cloud stood up straight, standing away from the table and creating creaks on the cheap, wooden floor. "Yeah, well, I doubt you'd be able to find my soul mate."

Zack moaned. "Cloud, just this one date! It's at 7:30, Chocobo Andante." He watched Cloud's mouth open but he interrupted in the nick of time. "And before you mention that I should have told you yesterday, may I remind you that you were out for hours with your inanimate motorcycle last night, so I didn't get a single chance to tell you about it."

"I didn't – "

"So it's your entire fault."

"What are you – "

"I'm actually trying to help you out of your funk."

"Funk?" Cloud breathed incredulous emphasis. "What do you mean, funk?"

"Cloud." Zack deadpanned. "What part of _paragon of woe_ do you not understand?"

"I'm not depressed if that's what you're saying."

"Come on!" Zack fell back into fluffy cushions. "You go out all night with _Fenrir_. And you know what? Fenrir _vibrates_, Cloud," he stated with passion. "What else am I supposed to think!" Zack's arms were now spasms.

Cloud's fingers twitched, then his eyelid twitched, then his whole body twitched, and upon closer inspection, it wasn't that healthy.

"You think I'm…with my…" Cloud's jaw was twitching, and it did not have the power to articulate what was necessary. In the end, he said, "Zack, you're disgusting."

"Objectophilia, okay Cloud! It's real."

In answer to his defense, Cloud grabbed Fenrir's keys off the hangar and headed toward the hallway. "Never heard of it."

"Whoa hold up a sec!" he bounded off the couch and pounced into the hallway. "You're going, right?"

Cloud's fist paused on the knob. "..Not interested." He turned the knob forty-five degrees.

"So you're just going to stand her up? Just…leave her there?" Zack's arms flopped to his sides, and his body hunched in a defeated stance.

The door cracked open. "I can't stand her up if I never asked her out," he said. Then he tilted his head in Zack's direction. "And my shift ends at eight tonight."

Zack's jaw unhinged and clattered against the laminate. Untrue. _Untrue_. Today was a Thursday, and on Thursdays Cloud's work ended at six, and that would give him plenty of time to wash up, get fancy, and flex his vocal muscles a bit. Zack's eyes narrowed. Unless he already made a date with Fenrir, the bastard. His eyes narrowed more. And Cloud took that thing everywhere with him. It's not like an hour would compromise the guy's relationship with his adored metal.

"But – but –" he spluttered. "No…" in Zack's overzealous emotions, all the angry words he wanted to dump out onto his roommate got cluttered in his trachea.

Cloud turned his head more then, making eye contact for the first time. "You know, if you're so upset about me not going, why don't _you_ go?" He stepped out of the apartment. "Add serious to the list of S's for once."

With that, the door shut in a click of finality.

* * *

Zack was pacing in his room. The clock blinked an angry red 7:18.

Cloud hadn't showed, like he said he wouldn't show. But Zack was still sold on his own conspicuous conclusion that the guy was biding his time with Fenrir, waiting until eight o'clock rolled around to ride back to the apartment.

7:19.

And sitting on his thoughts through his routine morning run, two hundred fifty squats, the walk he took to the auto shop he found as his part-time job (for now, at least), and the snip-snap-tink-tink of fixing, repairing, and creating different types of engines, he realized that he himself would mimic Cloud's vanishing act if he was wholly appalled in a forced situation. Or to make Cloud angry. Cloud, he reasoned, was doing it because a bit of both.

But a date? One simple, lousy, meaningless date? Cloud was an adult. Mostly. Why be so childish?

_Zack _would go on a date if Cloud was subjected to grow a funny bone and set him up. _Zack_ would take it in stride – he'd enjoy it, even.

7:20.

Zack huffed at his mirror, jabbing his shirt buttons into their individual places. "Why don't _you _go instead?" Zack impersonated, making folds underneath his chin to produce a scratchy effect. "Be _serious_."

Zack scoffed at his reflection. Zack was serious about every date he went on. He just happened to have a more fun time being serious on every date. At least, the girls shared having a fun, serious time with his company. And it was always innocent fun – never anything more.

Unless the situation called for immediate action.

7:21.

It would take twenty minutes to get there. Fifteen if the traffic complied. Ten if he paid the cab a lump sum. Five if he had his _own_ car with his _own_ engine.

Zack slipped his shirt ends into his dress pants, padding to the door.

Serious? Oh, he could show Cloud serious. He'd make it super serious while he was at it. Cloud didn't grasp what he was so unwittingly giving away.

His hand paused on the knob.

And Tifa was going to be in for a little surprise. But maybe it'd make her blush again. Zack smiled.

As he went on his way down to the streets, he constructed a whistle, and imagined the skip in his step was a small piece of excitement.

* * *

The taxi driver _sucked_.

The traffic – _sucked_.

Zack was two honks away from jumping out of the car and running the two miles to the restaurant. But either way, he was late, like he knew he'd be late, but he'd strut in and blame fashionable lateness and see if she'd laugh.

Except he marched into the exquisite restaurant at 7:49, and nineteen minutes late wasn't fashionable. It was much closer to insulting.

So as he was grumbling under his breath, inserting spider and snake and _monster_ venom in each word to make his own tongue sizzle from the acid, he was almost plowed back through the golden laced doorway. He grunted, and almost cursed again and again, glaring down madly into the dark head of – well, of his date.

"Tifa?" he sputtered.

Jumping like a flea, she snapped her head up with large, large eyes. "Zack?" She stepped back. "What are you doing here?"

The way she said it kind of ribbed him. "Hold up a sec. What are you doing leaving?"

Her eyes slanted downward. "If you haven't noticed, I've been waiting for almost twenty-five minutes, and I trusted the words of a guy I'd met barely a day ago!" She stepped back once more, using her x-ray eyes Zack noticed, right then, he'd missed.

"And you show up? You?" she growled. "Where's this Cloud you were talking about?"

The intensity she was showing was generating an untimely beaming from Zack. "You're really cute when you're angry, you know."

Tifa's lips were a slit. "Are you seriously flirting with me?"

And there it was again. The word. The adverb sibling of the word, but the word all the same.

Zack mussed his hair in a sigh, wanting nothing more than to kick the waiter passing by.

"Yes. I'm _seriously_ flirting with you. Because I think you need attention," he grabbed her wrist. "And I _think_ I promised to turn that frown of yours into a smile, didn't I?"

She stumbled easily on as he wandered through the aisles of couples, hoping that the seat he took was their reserved table. When she sat down and he pushed her in, she didn't speak up, so he figured he gambled just right.

And it wasn't hard. There were only two empty wine glasses and a basket of stale bread sticks.

Tifa's cheeks were a richer hue. People had been keeping blatant stares in their general direction as they made their grand entrance, and Zack grinned and grinned.

It was a minute or two before she raised her head. She breathed in deeply and looked up to him. "So?"

He looked back. "So what?"

She sighed out, semi-rolling her eyes. "What happened to my date?"

Zack absently scratched under his ear. "It was.. an unfortunate circumstance," he frowned. "But Mr. Cloud Strife is so great at his job that his boss needed him to work overtime, tonight."

Tifa blinked a few times. Then she smiled a smile without a heart in between and it was –

"Of course Cloud is."

Zack didn't want to think it, but it was _ugly_.

"So he wanted me to apologize …"

"Of _course_ Cloud did," she said, nodding thanks to the waiter and a filled wine glass.

"Because, I uh…"

"What?" she stared. "Because you're – his best friend? Cloud's best friend? And you wanted to do everything on his behalf because you love him so much?" she drank half her glass. "Right?"

Zack made a stretching slant with his mouth, pulling down on the folding indent. "I think I'm missing something," he mumbled.

"You think?" her voice was steadily rising while her glass was steadily lowering. "Being his best friend, I think you should know."

Zack was evaporating under the heat of her eyes and cheeks and tongue. "Sorry, but I…don't?"

She let out a gusty sigh and pushed her glass aside, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Oh…Zack." The abrupt feather of her voice made Zack shrink even more. "…_I'm_ the one who should be sorry."

Zack reached for his water on the elegant, intricate tablecloth, trying to absorb it like a sponge and replenish the fluids he'd lost. He was never going to go to a coffee shop in his life, he swore it.

"Don't worry," Zack cleared his throat. "I knew _one _thing." She looked up to him, biting her lip, ashamed.

Zack smiled tentatively. "You _were_ stressed."

Her face slowly, slowly morphed into a pretty smile, all ugliness down the chute – for now.

"I guess – I was. Am. Still am, probably," she ripped the head off a bread stick with practiced fingers. "But it's not Cloud's fault, I know, I just…it was such a long time ago and…"

Zack choked on an ice cube. "What?"

Tifa stopped chewing her bread. "What?"

He raised his hands to the heavens. "Did I hear you say Cloud and…a long time ago?" His eyes resembled CD disks. "As in…" he froze. "You guys…were, uh."

It clicked with a penetrating boom.

"_Shit."_ He cursed loudly, and he felt perturbed glances on his back._ "_You knew it was going to be Cloud this whole time? After I described him and told you and…and," she was looking down and out at the glossy tiles, the Swiss Italian marbleized swirl of paint crossing to the archway of the entrance.

And though she seemed heavily ashamed, there was only one thing Zack didn't understand.

"_Why_ did he let you go?" he accused, burning holes into her face, frying the plaster on the wall and the bricks facing the street. "I had so much hope for him, I really did."

There was a light clink of laughter, and his seriousness changed into momentary delight.

"Oh, Zack, it wasn't his fault. Like I said. We were young and inexperienced, and he was my first sweetheart," she ran a finger around the ring of crystal. "You never forget teenage love like that." Her face wrinkled in remembrance, and Zack sat in standby, listening.

"We didn't care about anything. Just…each other. Then one thing happened, then two then three, and suddenly he was leaving to fight for something I didn't understand and we drifted, and it wasn't silver stars and sunsets anymore," she halted her finger. "And it hurt when he was gone. But I was maybe fifteen, then? So a few weeks later, he was a three month dream I fantasized about." She gazed up at Zack with a wistful smile. "But we're all grown up, now, and we're so very different."

The way she was looking at him, with her eyes and her head tilted, and all the little shadows from everything else – or perhaps the lighting from the candle – jabbed and jabbed into his solar plexus, and he found it hard to breathe. No, not different at all. A person can't make a clean getaway from themselves, no matter how hard they try.

He reached his hand out and touched her fingertips. "You know, if you want me to, I can tell him. I can tell him your name and who you are." He shook his head. "I didn't mention your name to him this morning. I think if I did, he would have been here in a heartbeat and – "

But she stopped him before he was whisked away with another idea, placing two fingers up to his faintly pink lips.

"Zack…" she breathed. "Are you always this sweet?"

Zack's heart exploded. She was _reciprocating._

But he blinked, and he placed her hand into his palm once more. "Like I said," he tried for a crooked smile. "I promised to get you sunny side up. I stick to my promises you know."

"I do know," she smiled. "That's why I don't want you to tell him."

"Why?"

"Be_cause_," she leaned forward. "He's not across from me. You are. You came. We're here, talking about my past – and I haven't talked about him in a long time, Zack." She curled her fingers, rolling her eyes playfully. "There's a reason that he didn't come, even if he didn't know it was me."

Zack watched her, and she seemed younger. He watched her shrug. "And maybe that wouldn't have even mattered, anyway."

"Oh, trust me, it would have," he muttered to himself, but she heard him and produced a smart little snort.

"Whatever you say."

"You better believe it," Zack splayed his face into a butterfly smile. Except, there was a tinge in his stomach that really, really didn't want her to believe it.

He changed the subject.

"So…" he reluctantly dropped her hand and whipped the menu in the air. "You hungry yet?"

She relaxed into the plush, velveteen seat cushion, eyeing the menu in his hand with a feminine, feral look. "Starved."

* * *

"Miss Tifa Lockhart…" Zack cut into his steak, pronouncing the 'Miss', 'Mizz,' "let me guess…you are a…" he squinted, and she turned her head in a provoking side profile, "Doctor."

She kept her head where it was, but jutted an eyebrow. "What kind?"

He chewed his piece of cow in thoughtful smacks. "…Psychiatrist."

She tsked.

"…Psychologist?"

"Hmmm…"

Zack scrunched his face together. "Physical therapist!"

She made harried lines scatter across her visage, and Zack smiled devilishly.

"Oh, come on. I know you were thinking about using your hands to satisfy my physical needs," he waggled his eyebrows. "This whole time."

"Zack, I'm _eating_," she said, watching her chicken in distaste.

"Aw, sweetheart, that was low."

She let a light cackle slip.

"Oh, I know!" he speared his mashed potatoes. "A heart surgeon."

"Heart surgeon?" she reached for her drink. "You know, I would be about thirty and just starting my work."

"Just think about it," he waved his fork with embellishment. "If you were a heart surgeon, you could fix me."

"Fix you?"

"Yeah," he said, because it was the most obvious thing in the world. "From your constant abuse." Really.

"You're pathetic."

He gave her a pout.

"And an insanely awful guesser."

He pouted bigger. "See what I mean? Abuse."

"Zack," she ignored. "I'm a_ business_ owner."

Had he got _that_ wrong. "Honestly?"

She grinned triumphantly. "It's a family heirloom."

"Wow," he said. "Aren't you full of surprises?"

"Not once you get to know me better," she laughed.

He scowled slightly at that, but he had this undermining feeling that, quite frankly, he did want to get to know her better. They had only begun to scratch the surface, and he had this maddening urge…

"Your modesty puts me to shame."

"Tough luck, Chuck," she said, grabbing a piece of her hair and twisting it, like she did in the coffee shop. And Zack realized how it curled at the ends, tips tickling her neck and beaming that yes, it knew how pretty it was.

And it was so _shiny._

It _gleamed_ silky.

Zack wanted to _touch_ it.

"Well…" Zack breathed in. This felt like doing something hard. Why did this feel like doing something hard? "You could always help me, next time."

There. He said it.

And he didn't know he was a stone until she grinned.

"Sure."

* * *

a/n; yeah, so i skipped major setting detail, there is probably character flawing, etc etc, but all retardedness aside, let me know what you think. (:


	3. and could only end with some sweetness

**iii**; and could only end with some sweetness.

* * *

The Chocobo Monster.

When her eyes fell on the name and she peeked her eyes above the dessert menu, it was the metaphorical twisting of the knife.

On his wallet.

The price was textually sized a point-one-two-five and needed nothing less than a microscope to comprehend where the decimal stopped the numbers preceding it. In bouts of screwing his pupils on the print sideways, backwards, upside down, and at various angles which were not related to the normal left-to-right direction of reading, Zack came up with the single, inevitable way he would ever be inclined to wound his battered wallet.

"You're putting out," he said.

But when the waiter placed the heated pan before them, a giant cookie stabilizing mounds and mounds of ice cream, waterfalls of chocolate syrup made from Madagascan cocoa beans, weaved with a shawl of feathery whipped cream, drizzled with handpicked almonds from Romania, and topped with a single, fiery cherry at the very tip top, standing out before all the world to see, Zack wondered, minutely, if his choice of her in the coffee shop yesterday was perhaps the greatest idea he ever had the chance of having.

"On the first date?" she mumbled, arching her head to see the peak of the chocobo shaped spectacle. "You're on lent, remember?"

"I was lying. The _whole_ time."

When they had devoured enough of it to pop the thread holding their attire together and enough to actually see each other on the opposing ends of the dining table, Zack leaned away in his chair in a fit of utter, happy contentment.

But there was something nagging him in the back of his head, walking around leisurely all night until it came to a rest on the tip of his tongue.

Damn it, Cloud. This is your entire fault.

"So, Tifa…" he prodded, hiding back a blush. Because he did not blush, on principle.

She was twirling her fork in a chocolate river, leaning forward enough to make that thing bluster and blister and bubble distractingly.

"Uh…you know, I've been wondering this for a while…" he hesitated, and at such a hesitation, she glanced up from creating a blockade with the prongs of her utensil. She raised an eyebrow.

He could always blame it on the wine and beer and maybe whiskey, he reasoned.

"Are those…real?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Are what real?"

"You know," he gestured. "You can't tell me you've never been asked before."

She became that fiery little cherry, but Zack couldn't tell if it had been popped in anger or chagrin or both.

"Of course I have," she said. "I just wasn't expecting something like that from _you_."

Zack winced. "I'm at least twenty-five percent alcohol. I got brave…er."

She sighed, grumbled for a second, then answered indignantly, "Yes, they are _real_."

"I knew it!" Zack whooped. "I knew it. Silicon in his _face_."

"What?" she stared at him.

"Uh, nothing. I just – knew you wouldn't be the type for implants. That's all."

She ignored him. "Whose face were you talking about?"

Zack bit his tongue. He couldn't honestly say Cloud's, could he? Wasn't that against some mancode, made up some ancient years before?

He rolled his eyes. Aw, hell. Who cared. This was Tifa, and he found her name made him feel too comfortable.

So he pardoned her into the story of Zack's quest to quell the S's of life. Which somehow commenced his defense upon becoming the master/king/superior of fetishes, which then easily encountered the factor of Objectophilia and Cloud's in-denial discrepancies of such a subject, which then led to him asking _her_ about fetishes. Because he knew she had fetishes. He knew.

And she had answered. With laughter.

Zack liked this very much.

* * *

Zack waited until she was in the ladies' room to pay the bill. His pride could not let him stand to have her watching his hand shake, holding a pen before the multitude of numbers printed on the receipt. Not to say that his hand _did_ shake. It was only a precaution he found necessary to take in such a fine restaurant, and that's all it was. A precaution.

He didn't even _think_ about him turning puce.

But as it went, there were no instances of upchucking or sloppy signatures, much to Zack's satisfaction. He led her out to the cab he called, and they ended up sitting a respectable, aggravating distance away. Much to his _dis_satisfaction.

First date, he reminded his hands. First date.

Though.. it felt a few steps ahead in terms of compatibility, a few steps back in terms of her innocent modesty.

"I've got a question," he said, placing his palm near hers on the seat. "Are you always so suspicious when a guy comes up to you?"

She plucked her hand and placed it in her lap. "What do you mean?"

"At the coffee shop," he positioned himself. "You almost closed me off completely."

"I'm the bartender at my business. I guess I'm just used to doing that."

"You can't be like that all the time," he said. "Ever enjoy the attention once in a while?"

She opened her mouth, making eye contact with him. She closed it, and then opened it again with a smile.

"I don't think I'm one for the limelight."

"You could be," he shrugged. "Easy."

She fiddled with her fingers. "I don't know," she said. "I put my heart into my work, but it's not that. I listen to the town's problems. I always lend my ear and advice for whoever needs it, and I watch them smile at me and leave me tips, but I don't know, Zack," she trailed. "Some pay for my company, but they always leave, and some never come back."

She looked at him. "Strange thought, huh?"

Zack really, really wanted to grab her hand, right then.

"Not at all," but he refrained. "You just have a giant heart," he smiled. "Like that cinnamon roll."

She seemed confused for a second. "Oh, that one. Why were you watching me eat that, again?"

"'Cause it was hot."

She punched his shoulder, and it _hurt_, but he grabbed her wrist before she had a chance to spring it back to her lap. From the force, she slid a little bit closer to him.

"But I honestly think the right person will stay," he said, before she wormed herself away. "What bar is it, by the way?"

"It's Seventh Heaven."

A street lamp glared onto his face through the window, respect drawing a glow. The light made a realization dawn on him. "This whole time? And you never told me?"

"You never asked," she squeaked.

The tires hit a bump, erasing a few inches.

"I go there a – lot. I can't believe I've never seen you!"

"It gets pretty crowded. Maybe you're always in the back."

Usually he _was_ in the back, sometimes flirting, sometimes galvanizing with old pals. But to miss her? To miss the gossip of the vivacious bartender who served drinks and advice to anyone who needed it?

"Small world," he rubbed a hand over his face.

"Very," she agreed, relaxing into the seat, but suddenly hit a solid substance instead of the springy one she was aiming for. Her peripheral vision whispered that he had wrapped his arm around her back. Her hand told her it was not in her feminine lap, but a male one, and if anything else, he had prodded his time to get in this exact position.

She slowly turned to face him.

He awarded her with a dazzling grin.

"What can I say?" he said. "I have a way of warming up to people."

In the midst of her irritation, because it _was_ irritation, the taxi driver chuckled.

But much to Zack's disappointment, the drive ended before he could finish anything that he so happened to think about, especially after he had worked so hard.

"We're here," said Bob, the taxi driver. "Comes out to twenty-two gil, ma'am."

Zack reached into his pocket, but Tifa's touch stopped him.

"Don't," she said. He grimaced, and she beckoned. "Please."

He put his wallet away and watched her pay off the ride with a begrudging taste in his mouth. Though, through the smile she gave him, he understood her reasoning.

Zack told Bob to wait a few minutes while he escorted Tifa to her door, and the man was nice enough not to ask for wait-money. "Take your time, sport."

He scowled, but thanked his good luck, this time around.

But it was what he saw, at that very moment, which made his body crumple into a wrinkled mess on the pavement.

Fenrir was parked by the apartment complex. And it so happened that Cloud walked out of the building, with – with –

A girl.

A _real _girl.

"Cloud?" Zack shrieked. Tifa was right rigid beside him.

Cloud started, swiveling his head to the pair. "Z…Zack?"

"CLOUD?"

"…Tifa?"

"…Hi."

"Tifa..."

_"CLOUD_?"

"Zack…"

"Zack?"

Zack nearly fainted. "Cissnei?"

"Zack!"

"Cissnei…?"

"Hey, Cissnei."

"Well hey, Tifa."

"Tifa?"

"Zack, please."

"Cloud? Cissnei?"

"Zack – "

"CLOUD."

"Zack, really – "

"Fen_rir_."

"Zack, what are you – "

"Cissnei."

"Yes, I'm right here, Zack."

"And Cloud."

"Okay, Zack," Tifa gripped his arm. "I think we're all on the same page now."

Unfortunately, they were not.

Cloud, Cissnei, and Zack were letting their eyes stew on each pair, left to right to left once more. Cloud's eyes were like dinner plates, straying to Tifa, back to Zack. Cissnei was biting her lip, glancing from Cloud to Zack in puzzlement, and then following Cloud's eyes to Tifa, whom she gave a small smile. Zack's facial expression was comically strange, with his mouth partly open and his teeth showing through.

Tifa, it seemed, was quicker on the uptake.

"Why didn't you _tell _me?" Zack gained his composure after a multitude of seconds, straightening his stance.

Cloud was silent awhile, looking off to the street and back to Zack's prying eyes.

"I was," he said. "You just always…push me, and I wanted to do this on my own."

Zack loosened his hand in a little shake. He did? Did he? Well…of course he pushed Cloud. Nobody else would. The kid had potential to live every once in a blue moon, so why not try for every day instead?

"You could have just said so, you know," Zack smiled, but it was plastic and indigestible, the fake up-tilt seeming more like a grimace.

"No, I didn't." Cloud shrugged. He changed balance from his left foot to his right, abbreviating his obvious discomfort. "But I'll know next time."

Zack looked away from Cloud's stare. He was starting to feel a bubble of hurt. "I – wanted to help you."

Cloud moved his lips in a pressed, crooked frown. "I should have realized sooner, Zack."

"..."

"I'm sorry."

So Zack would have been upset a little, stinging, just a little, feeling that bubble pop and pop, but at Cloud apologizing? Going out of his way to articulate words that Zack found himself trying to persuade out of him ever since meeting him in the barracks back in Wutai?

Zack was justifiably in joyous awe.

He grinned from the apartment bricks to the yellow door of the taxi in record time, downer emotions easily waved away. "Never thought I'd hear that from _you_."

Cloud rolled his eyes in a glare. "Don't get used to it."

But after that, after the mood shifted into a bond of genial respect of happy, boyish proportions, it changed yet again. Cloud's eyes flicked to the side, and Zack noticed immediately. He felt a twinge of wanting to grasp, to wrap an arm around Tifa, sparkle down his forearm, into his fingers, but he closed his fist in various spurts. If he had learned anything from this whole ordeal, it would have been this: Zack did not have the power of control. Sure, he could put plans into action, attempt to set things in motion, but there were times where placing himself inside others shoes did _not_ always work like the stories said.

Tifa's choice, he knew – the moment he tried to chew her and figure out if there was any baking soda inside her at all – would never rely on anyone but herself.

"Tifa – " Cloud caught. Tifa had been staring at him.

"It's been a long time, Cloud," she said, and Zack was proud. She hadn't given a single stutter.

He nodded, opening his mouth and hesitating. He blinked and he said, "How – how've you been?"

It was the pivotal moment. Zack sucked in an almost audible breath, keeping his eyes open in the wake, as if what would happen next, in the split second, would be a car crash.

But what it felt like, then, in the one moment, in the point-two-fifths of a second of decision making and neuron-snapping, Zack was enveloped into the collision.

It was ooey-gooey-sticky-sweet, running down the inside of his elbow, the veins of his forearm, and to the digits of his slender, blunt fingers.

She melted her hand into his.

"I've been great," and she smiled and it wasn't pretty, but shit, was it beautiful.

Zack felt his cheeks dying in a – a _blush_.

"And yourself?"

Cloud's perception, believe it or not, was Guinness World Record worthy. It could have been Zack's imagination, but it seemed Cloud glanced quickly to Zack then to Tifa in a slightly guarded stance. And though it faded in a duration of two to three seconds, Zack knew two to three seconds could back up a myriad of thoughts. Whatever those thoughts might have been, Zack figured, he wouldn't readily know anytime soon.

But after that, Cloud looked to his own date, eyes retreating in a small, pronounced smile.

"I've been great, too."

Zack grinned, swelling with something like brotherly affection.

Cissnei nudged him, and Cloud scratched his head, abashed.

"It was nice seeing you guys," Cissnei grinned along, taking the whole scene in in the background. "Especially you, Zack. It's been too long."

"It has," Zack agreed. "I think this calls for a double date, sometime soon."

Cloud opened his mouth with furrowing brows, but Cissnei beat him to the punch. "Definitely. Don't you think so, Cloud?"

Cloud merely nodded, stunned.

At Cloud's acquiescence, Zack laughed and realized Cloud had his experience with Zack's leading, main character nature cut out for him. In the form of Cissnei.

Gotta love it, Zack thought, watching her lead Cloud toward Fenrir. "Sorry to cut this short, you guys, but we'll be late to the movie!"

Beside him, Zack felt Tifa stifling a giggle. "It's no problem. You guys have fun!" she called as they boarded onto the motorcycle, and Cloud, before he revved up the engine, was heard saying, "Zack dated you_...too_?"

And as they sped off down the street, Zack and Tifa's hands stayed glued.

"So," he said. "A double date…you okay with that?"

She glittered with red, red whiskey eyes. "I think I can manage."

"Now, that's what I like to hear." Zack brushed her bangs from her eyelashes, noting that at this close distance, a tiny, faint freckle appeared on the peak of her nose.

"Do you – do you want my…number?" her eyelids fell toward the half-way mark, creating her dilated pupils into such an appeasing droop.

Zack took in her lips with his eyes. "Nah." He wouldn't need it.

She blinked, coming out of her daze. "Oh. I didn't mean – "

He leaned more, under the spell of her ooey-gooey hand and that adorable little freckle. He pressed a lingering kiss into the turn of her lips and the curving of her cheek. It was just enough to taste the Madagascan cocoa beans from minutes before.

"I think I'd rather come find you, instead," he whispered, ultimately satisfied by the obvious affect he was exuding onto her. "I'll notice you, this time around."

"Oh," she said. She backed away to look up to him. "Oh, that's a nice idea."

"Better than the one I had before?" he joked.

She tapped his nose.

"_Almost."_

And Zack knew, without a doubt, he was hooked - it turned out, perhaps, there was almost too much baking soda he could handle.

"I agree."

* * *

an; thanks for reviewing, guys.  
I hope you enjoyed it - as much enjoyment as I had writing it!~  
(and...Cloud/Cissnei? LOL; CRACKY MUCH? &&&&heart.)


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